


Under the Tree

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bunker Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Cursed Dean, Curses, De-Aged Dean Winchester, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 17:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13253298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: All Dean had been trying to do was find a Christmas present for Castiel, but when he's hit by a cursed object in the Men of Letters Bunker, Dean's Christmas plans greatly change. Faced with a five year old Dean, Castiel and Sam decide that Dean deserves a Christmas he will never forget.





	Under the Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kuwlshadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuwlshadow/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this kuwlshadow. I really liked the prompt that this was based on. And I will confess that I was a little intimidated when I found out I had been assigned to you, as I really dig your art.
> 
> Thanks to [captainhaterade](https://captainhaterade.tumblr.com/) for the beta.

“Sam, I… I don’t think I’m in the right place. This doesn’t look like the south end storage.” Dean turned on the spot, cellphone held against his ear, taking in shelf after shelf of dubious looking boxes, chests, jars and bottles.

The bunker was so vast that Dean was pretty sure he had yet to go into every room the place had to offer. Certainly not in the lower levels.

“It is. Look, is there a small chest, pine, stained blue? Got some Enochian on the outside?” Sam asked over the phone.

Dean huffed, but looked around the shelves. “Looking… Ah, got it!” Dean reached up towards the chest Sam had described, standing on the tips of his toes.

“Fantastic. Look, Cas is gonna love the-” Sam started, but was cut off by Dean as he yelped.

A smaller, red chest had fallen down from beside the one Sam had sent him for. From inside the chest rose a sparkling, white mist that surrounded Dean. He tried to step away from it, but it followed and enveloped him. Whispered words spilled from the insubstantial substance, the language unfamiliar to Dean.

“Dean? Dean?! DEAN!” came Sam’s voice over Dean’s dropped cellphone.

It would be several hours before Dean would come to.

***

“Is he going to wake up?”

“Soon, Sam, soon. The... _change_ would have used much of his own reserves.”

Sam nodded and looked down at Dean. It was strange seeing his older brother looking so much younger, even younger than when that child-eating witch had cursed him. He figured Dean had been cursed to be around five years old. He looked tiny in his bed, curled up on his memory foam, bed covers swamping him.

“Any idea how to reverse this?”

Castiel shook his head. “The few engravings on the underside of the chest suggested it was Druidic in origin.”

“Maybe the black grimoire that we got from the Loughlin’s will have something?”

“It might. This curse seems like the kind of thing that would have been recorded there.”

Walking towards the bedroom door, Sam gave Cas a concerned look. “Watch over him?”

“Always.”

Sam nodded and headed off to the library and the grimoire. Finding it was easy, it was one of the most evil-looking books they owned—giving off a vibe of intent that left Sam’s skin crawling whenever he handled it. He hoped it had the answers they needed.

***

“Cas?” piped up a small, confused voice.

Castiel had rubbed his eyes and found an awake Dean sitting in front of him. Short blond hair in messy tufts, cheeks rosy from sleep, the old AC/DC t-shirt they’d put Dean in looked comically too-large on his tiny frame. There were literally no clothes in the bunker small enough for Dean.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel got up from the chair he had been sat on, and sat down on the bed beside Dean, trying to appear comforting and reassuring. He schooled his face into a welcoming smile—or at least he hoped that was what it look liked.

“Cas, there was… this mist… and these words… and...” Dean looked down at this hands, eyes going wide. “What happened?”

“From what we are able to tell, you have been cursed.”

Dean gulped.

“But Sam is looking for a cure as we speak.”

Dean nodded. “I was… looking for a Christmas present to give you.”

Castiel’s smile grew wider. “We believed you knocked over a chest containing the curse. It might have been a security measure. There was a locket inside the box.”

Dean rubbed at his eyes, looking tired and scared, and Castiel suddenly wanted to draw Dean into his arms and tell him everything would be fine. The worry written on Dean’s face as he gazed up at Castiel pushed him to scoot closer and draw Dean into a hug. He tried to think sensibly through the things he understood human children needed. He had little experience of his own with children, but he had learned a few things from Jimmy and observing parents with their children.

“Everything will be fine, Dean. Please do not worry.”

***

“The curse will be gone… probably after three days,” whispered Sam. “We could remove it before then, but we would need to we get our hands on some birch that’s been blessed by a Druid priest under a Strawberry Moon.”

The bed shifted under Dean, but he continued to doze, only half aware of what was being discussed beside him.

“I assume that’s hard to come by?” Castiel asked.

“I’ll reach out and see if I can get the Birch.”

Silence.

“We need to get him some clothes that fit.”

“I’ll head out to Walmart. Be back in a few hours.” The bed shifted.

“Wait. Perhaps we could… it’s almost Christmas, Sam. I have observed and read much about the traditions associated with this holiday.”

“And?”

“Perhaps we could celebrate Christmas this year. Like many other people do.”

“Okay, I’ll get some Christmas things, as well, then.”

“You’ll need a tree.”

Dean turned on the bed and his eyes fluttered open. “Sammy?” Dean yawned and looked up at his brother and Cas. His stomach grumbled, but it was a tiny noise compared to normal.

The two men smiled at Dean.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Sam greeted. “I’m about to head out to grab you some things. Maybe Cas can get you some milk and cookies, eh?”

“Okay.” Dean wiped his nose with the back of his hand and scrambled out of bed. Sam lent him one of his hoodies to put over the AC/DC t-shirt and he was swamped. The sleeves had to be rolled up until they almost looked like inflatable swimming bands, but the bottom hem was near his ankles. Using the belt from Dean’s Men of Letters robe, they made sure the hoodie didn’t billow too much. But the socks Dean had on were like thigh high boots.

The three of them headed to the kitchen, and Sam got Dean perched at one of the tables before heading out. Dean watched Cas as the angel found cookies and poured some milk in a glass.

“Here you go.” Cas put the plate and glass down in front of Dean.

Knees bent up under the t-shirt and hoodie, Dean snacked, watching Castiel with a kind of curiosity he hadn’t felt in a long time. A childlike wonderment—it was strange, he still had all of his memories, but his concerns were closer to that of a five year old.

“How tall are you again?” Dean put his glass of milk down and folded his arms over his knees.

“I believe about the height of your Chrysler building.”

***

Castiel’s pickup had been the right choice for Sam’s impromptu shopping trip. The back held a Christmas tree. The cabin was filled with a couple of bags of clothes, other bags filled with different foods and treats, and another with possible presents for everyone.

Christmas was a few days away, and Sam wasn’t one hundred percent sure of everything they should be doing. He’d been guessing back when Dean’s demon deal was running out, and he’d been guessing during the two Christmases he’d spent in Jess’s company and that of her family. And certainly guessing as a kid when he tried to do things for Dean at this time of year.

Sam brought everything in, piece by piece, wanting someone to keep an eye on Dean at all times, in case something happened. The grimoire hadn’t had much information on the curse, but he found magic like this could be quite unstable. Presents were hidden away in Sam’s bedroom.

Taking the clothes to Dean’s room, Sam picked out an outfit—underoos, socks, jeans, plaid and t-shirt, plus some sneakers he’d guessed the size for—and laid it out for him. He called Dean in, and left him to get dressed.

Once everything else was in the Bunker, Sam brought his laptop out to the map room, opened up Spotify and found a Christmas playlist that didn’t look too terrible. He started it playing and brought Dean and Castiel into the room. “Last Christmas” by Wham played on Sam’s laptop.

There was the tree that needed decorating. Sam pointed to the boxes of decorations that he’d selected from Walmart.

“Which do you think I should use?”

Dean looked through the boxes and picked out decorations. “These,” he said, pointing towards a mix of dull silver and blue decorations.

“Great.” Sam took the boxes and set them down by the tree. He pointed towards a small collection of craft supplies. “Do you think you could work with Castiel to make something to go on the top of the tree?”

Dean looked between the crafting stuff and Castiel. He nodded shyly and went over to that end of the map table, Castiel at his heels.

***

Glitter. It was a substance that Castiel had had little to do with in his life until helping Dean make an angel to go on the tree. (Castiel had tried to persuade him to have a star, as it would have been easier to make, but no—Dean wanted an angel on the tree.)

Castiel found that despite his best attempts, and even having Dean work on old newspapers, the glitter Dean put on the edges of the angel’s wings (“angel wings don’t sparkle like that” “these do”) managed to get everywhere. Every time Castiel thought he’d wiped it all away, he found more on his fingers. He worried about how much was on his face.

Looking up from their handiwork, Castiel checked how Sam was doing with the tree. He’d managed to get the multi-colored lights on and working, had added tinsel, and was busy putting up baubles. It was looking like the kind of tree you would find in a family home—a warmth filled Castiel’s chest.

Attention back on the angel topper, Castiel had to look twice when he realized that the angel had acquired a blue tie, made from blue card stock, and a messy mop of black hair made of pipe cleaners. A song about Rudolph the red nosed reindeer started, but Castiel ignored it as he stared at the topper.

“It’s looking really nice, Dean.”

Dean nervously ducked his head and smiled.

***

The kitchen had been out of bounds all of Christmas Eve, which Dean had found annoying, as it was his favorite place to hang out, but also because it meant he hardly saw Sam. But it did mean Castiel was hanging out with him, and Dean wouldn’t say it out loud, but he found it pretty cool.

Castiel helped him to build a snowman outside after it snowed overnight, and they took pictures of it on Castiel’s cellphone. Then the two of them had sledded down the hill beside the Bunker. Made snow angels and Dean had giggled in a way he hadn’t since before _the_ fire.

Sam brought them sandwiches for lunch while they played checkers in the map room.

When the sun went down on Christmas Eve, Dean finally decided he needed to talk to Sam. He still didn’t have anything to give to Castiel for Christmas and he was worried.

Sam was cleaning up in the kitchen when Dean wandered in, feet shifting sheepishly as he approached. He thought he could smell burgers cooking.

“What’s for dinner?” Dean asked.

“Burgers. Store bought, so won’t be as good as yours… is something up?” Sam knelt down so he was Dean’s level.

“I… don’t have anything to give Cas tomorrow.”

Sam gave Dean a thoughtful look. “I picked something out for you to give him. It’s in the box on the table.”

“Ooooh, okay.” Dean walked over to the table and gently opened the box. There was a tie inside, but unlike the grown-up-looking ones Cas normally wore, this one had bees on it. A smile broke out on Dean’s face and he looked to Sam. “He’ll love it.”

“Wanna wrap it up and put a label on? I’ll help.”

Dean wasn’t great with operating the tape, but he and Sam got Castiel’s present wrapped up. With such small hands, Dean struggled to write the label out, but he thought the “xxxxx” after his name looked particularly well-written.

After dinner, Dean played more checkers and then Cas and Sam put him to bed once his eyes were struggling to stay open. But not before he sleepily helped them put out milk and cookies for Santa.

***

Under the Christmas tree the following morning, the inhabitants of the Bunker found:

For Castiel—a bee tie from Dean; a flannel shirt from Sam.

For Sam—a Game of Thrones sweater from Dean; a leather-bound copy of _Frankenstein_ from Castiel.

For Dean—Led Zeppelin I through III on LP from Sam; a mixtape of Castiel’s favorite rock tracks from Castiel. Oh, and some blessed birch, from the Banes twins.

And later that day, they had a Christmas dinner cooked by Sam that tasted really good. Though the ham was a little overdone, according to Castiel.

Dean was cured in the evening.

Sam later spotted Dean sitting with Castiel (who was wearing his new tie) as the two of them drank mugs of hot chocolate in the kitchen, closer together than they normally dared. And Sam left those two “idjits” to it.

**Author's Note:**

> That's it. First time writing something with de-aging in it.


End file.
